<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Lentil Soup by editorbit</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125175">Lentil Soup</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/editorbit/pseuds/editorbit'>editorbit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Connor the Chef [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hank Anderson &amp; Connor Friendship, Mentioned Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), One Shot, Soup</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:22:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/editorbit/pseuds/editorbit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor makes some soup. Someone eats said soup.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor &amp; Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson &amp; Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Connor the Chef [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1041734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lentil Soup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor eyes the sealed bowl in front of him on his desk with - what anyone looking must perceive to be - an almost thoughtful expression on his face. It’s just his face, though. It always looks like that. Puppy eyes is what they call it, unless his extensive research is mistaken. He doesn’t quite understand what that means exactly, though it seems to be a positive term, and he takes the compliment. Connor likes dogs.</p><p>The bowl’s content along with its nutritional values pop up in his vision with a mere twitch of his artificial face muscles, and he watches the temperature slowly but surely tick down in the corner of his eyes.</p><p>Lentil soup.</p><p>He’d made it in the lieutenant’s kitchen earlier that morning, with permission this time. All but walking right into the man’s home with bags of groceries - uninvited and at "ungodly hours" - hadn’t been well received the previous eight times, and he’d opted to call in advance this time. Still, the lieutenant hadn’t, unlike his Saint Bernard, looked all too pleased - or entirely sober - when Connor had showed up at his door, but had let him in without a complaint. </p><p>The temperature of the soup dips below the recommended serving temperature of 190 degrees Fahrenheit, and Connor looks up at the empty desk opposite his own. He’d left the lieutenant’s house alone that morning, gently pressing a post-it note to his forehead and leaving Sumo to watch the half asleep man while he came to terms with the new day. He hasn’t heard anything from him yet, and he sends him another friendly reminder that work awaits him.</p><p>An idea pops into mind - figuratively speaking of course - as he scans the room, and he grabs the bowl of soup as he stands.</p><p>"Detective Reed?"</p><p>There’s a distinctive increase of his stress level, and Connor keeps the bowl of soup clutched securely in his hands for now. The probability of the detective pouring the content of the bowl right on him is a bit too high for the time being. </p><p>"The fuck you want, tin can?"</p><p>He considers his options before he replies, well aware that the detective is a bit unpredictable to say the least. The key, he concludes, is to tread carefully and avoid confrontation, unless he wants lentil soup all up in his styled - albeit synthetic - hair. He gives the man his best polite smile and asks; "Are you hungry?"</p><p>Detective Reed stares up at him for a few, long seconds, hands resting on his keyboard, and not even Connor’s reconstruction program knows what might be coming next. He doesn’t need his diagnostic programs to know he’s confused, caught off guard even, and it’s a first. The detective eyes him up and down, stopping at the sight of the bowl in Connor’s hands. </p><p>"What?" is all he says, borderline bewildered at this point, and Connor deems this his best opportunity to place the bowl of soup down on his desk. He takes a step back from the detective. "I suggest you heat it up in the microwave. It’s getting cold, Detective." He turns around before he gets a response, or a cowl of soup poured over his head, and only takes a quick glance over his shoulder as he walks away.</p><p>"I hope you enjoy it."</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>